Debbie Croft: Savoring moments with those who matter most

I love this last week of the year – sort of the calm after the holiday storm. My email inbox doesn’t fill up. There aren’t as many phone calls coming in. With school out, a little vacation time squeezed in, relatives visiting, and a fridge full of good food, there’s a kind of lull.

And my calendars all breathe a huge collective sigh – yeah, I have more than one – in saying goodbye to another year.

At the start of 2015 we were empty-nesters. But since the youngest’s life plans didn’t turn out as expected, her flight path brought her back home.

I remember the bittersweetness of those last weeks before each one left for college. In the finality, I couldn’t help thinking back to all the moments I wasted or missed altogether, wishing to find a portal in the fabric of time for a re-do.

I resisted the urge to rein them back in. But I wanted to beg, “Wait! There’s more! More I need to tell you, to show you, to prepare you for – things I didn’t know when you were younger, but I know them now. … Don’t go – I need more time with you!”

Still so much left unspoken, undone, against the backdrop of “Hurry, we’ll be late,” and “No, we don’t have the time/money/resources.”

At the close of each year my thoughts wander back to months and years prior, weighing, calculating, hoping my investments earned interest in their hearts and minds, their character and souls.

And I long for the ability to freeze time, to savor the moments worth keeping, and rearrange or toss the ones I failed in. To push the pause button, and stay in the good places for longer than two minutes.

In ministering at our county jail, the one subject guaranteed to bring tears is that of our children. These women don’t cry about the food or the thin mattress or stark cement block walls. But they do cry about missing their family, especially during holidays. And they ask me to pray they’ll be better moms.

I once knew a girl who cried herself to sleep at night. She felt unwanted, unloved and in the way. Of course, she determined to do better when given a family of her own. To make the most of teachable moments, to work together enjoying and interacting with her kids, whether in the kitchen or washing the car.

Early in life she determined her kids would know they were valuable. They would know how much she enjoyed spending time with them.

She would look them in the eyes and say “I love you” every chance she got. And she’d hug them tight – validating, affirming, building the lives of those entrusted to her care.

So much of life begs to be shared.

But back to my girl. Yes, I bought her contact solution and fancy gluten-free crackers, and wrapped them up for under the tree.

“I was thinking of you,” I told her.

Now that she’s living under our roof again, I’m reminded of her tendency toward forgetfulness. She’s usually running out of necessities or looking for something in the fridge she can eat that won’t mess up her stomach.

Wrapping those gave her more presents to open.

But the mystery of “I wonder what’s in here …” disappeared with “What? You wrapped up contact solution?!?”

Later she admitted, “After finding Sephora and two pairs of sterling silver earrings in my stocking, it was sort of a let-down.”

We did buy some of her favorites. And I ordered the phone case she sent me the link to. But then she discovered it was the wrong one, in true loveable-but-scatter-brained-style, so I sent it back. Which meant one less present with her name on the tag. Another reason I wrapped the contact solution.

Then something got lost in the carload of bags and boxes that accompanied her move back home. On the day after Christmas she came in the kitchen and handed me a small package.

“I forgot to put this in your stocking!”

(What did I tell you?)

She gave me anti-wrinkle cream.

The next morning we sat on the antique trunk near the wood stove, huddling to stay warm, eating leftover baked Victorian French toast and giggling.

I leaned over and whispered, “If I hadn’t given you contact solution and crackers, and you hadn’t given me wrinkle cream, we wouldn’t be sitting here laughing right now.”

Just between us, I hope to live long enough to return the favor.

This story was originally published January 1, 2016 at 9:31 AM with the headline "Debbie Croft: Savoring moments with those who matter most."